Irrational
by hiddenheart519
Summary: Weiss Schnee, heiress to her family's company, wakes one morning for the daily inspection by her father, and of course, he is unsatisfied. Uses lines from "Mirror Mirror" and has my headcannon for Weiss's crooked ponytail. Set before attending Beacon.


Weiss tightened the ponytail she always wore to keep her long white hair in place. She laced up her heels, straightened her shirt, flattened her skirt, and strapped Myrtenaster to her hip. She ran one hand over the top of her head and, when she was satisfied with how smooth it was, opened her door.

She closed the door behind her and stood just outside it. She took a deep breath and prepared herself.

 _Good morning, Father._ _ **Yes**_ _, sir._ _ **No**_ _, sir. Of_ _ **course**_ _, sir._ _ **Anything**_ _for you, sir. Go ahead and ruin our family name while Winter and I watch calmly, sir. No, sir, you shouldn't do_ _ **anything**_ _about Mother. Of_ _ **course**_ _I love you, sir. What's_ _ **not**_ _to love? You're dragging the name of Schnee through the mud, you've ignored Mother for the past_ _ **year**_ _, and you're teaching Winter that the best way to get what you want is through fear, cheating, lying, and stealing! You're a model father,_ _ **really**_ _, sir!_

Her internal monologue had turned heated and her ice-blue eyes narrowed.

"Good morning, Weiss," a voice called softly to her left, tearing the heiress out of her silent rantings.

She glanced to the left of her. There stood her 4-years-younger sister, Winter. The 11-year-old girl, dressed in neat icy-colored clothes that lined the closets of both girls, stood outside her door like Weiss, back straight and chin held high, a tiny smile on her face.

Where Weiss took after their mother, Winter had inherited their father's dark hair and steel-gray eyes.

"Good morning," Weiss replied shortly.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mm."

There was a small pause which Weiss didn't bother to fill. "He sure is taking his time this morning."

"Mm."

"...Maybe he's with Mother," Winter suggested hopefully.

Weiss snorted. "I'm sure he is," she muttered.

Another silence.

"Ashlyn told me you gave your mirror away," Winter said when Weiss didn't speak.

"Mm hm."

"Why?"

Weiss shrugged.

"Father won't be pleased..." Winter said quietly. "It was an heirloom."

Weiss scoffed. "Everything in this house is heirloom..." she grumbled.

Winter didn't reply. Instead, changing the subject, she said, "Your hair's crooked."

"I know."

"I'll fix it if you want me too."

"It _is_ fixed," she snapped coldly.

"But-"

"I like it like this, okay?" she said shortly.

"Okay..."

Footsteps rang up the wooden stairs, ringing through the long, empty hallways that filled the huge house.

Weiss straightened sharply as Winter did the same, murmuring a last, "Father won't be pleased..."

 _Who cares what Father thinks..._ Weiss growled silently but managed to keep the anger from showing on her face and plastering her best fake smile on her lips.

Her father, Jack- dressed in a crisp white suit with black boots and a black cane that had a silver patterning of snowflakes along it- came around the hallway. His black hair was slicked back and his piercing gray eyes never met those of his daughters.

"Good morning, girls."

"Good morning, Father," they replied in unison.

Jack Schnee paused in his pacing to stand before Winter. He looked her up and down as the 11-year-old looked off into oblivion. He began to pace again. "What time did you go to sleep, Winter?"

"11:45 p.m., sir," Winter admitted in an even voice. Both girls had learned long ago there was a difference between _going to bed_ and _going to sleep._

"Why?"

"I was reading, sir."

"Reading what?"

Winter hesitated.

Jack stopped. Weiss's breathing caught. "Reading what?" Jack repeated slowly.

"Ashes of the Forgotten."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"A-Ashes of the Forgotten, sir," Winter repeated hurriedly.

"By?"

"I-I don't know, sir," the young girl admitted quietly.

Weiss tensed. That was a lesson they had both learned the hard way. Never, ever, ever, answer a question with "I don't know." Always have an answer...

...or else.

Jack shook his head sadly. "Go to your room, Winter. I expect all your books in the hallway by noon."

Winter gave a tiny, meek nod and quickly turned, opened her door, and ducked into her room.

"And you, Wiess? What time were you asleep?"

"9:06, sir." Weiss was cool as ice on the outside, but was a raging fire inside. _How_ _ **dare**_ _you speak to her like that?! She's done nothing but try to_ _ **please**_ _you! Just because she stayed up late reading a book by an author_ _ **she didn't know?!**_ But Weiss retained her cool expression while Jack nodded in approval. "And what time did you awaken?"

"5:00 exactly, sir," Weiss replied.

"I expect you finished all your chores?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did your uncle call?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you answer?"

"No, sir."

"Good girl." Jack smiled, but the smile lacked any warmth at all. He looked her up and down as he had Winter, and her heart stopped when his cold eyes paused on her crooked ponytail, narrowing in disapproval.

However, much to Weiss's relief, he said nothing.

"Mr. Leaph has, to my surprised, thanked me for giving his daughter a new mirror," Jack said, pacing once more, a single dark eyebrow raised. "Now, do you know why he would do such a thing?"

"Yes, sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because I gave it to Ashlyn Leaph, sir."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want it, sir."

Jack shook his head like he had done to Winter. "To your room, Weiss."

"Yes, sir."

Weiss turned away and slowly, confidently, entered her room. But once she collapsed onto her bed, smashing her face into her pillow, she broke. She let out a short, muffled scream.

Great _Oum_ , she hated her family! You do one thing wrong and you get condemned! Oh, you gave your sister's friend a gift without permission? Lets lock you in your room all day without any food to eat! You don't know who wrote the book you're reading? Lets take away your reading privileges!

Weiss took a deep breath and stood, roughly swiping the few tears that had broken through. _No. No tears. Tears are for the weak. I am not weak. I_ _ **refuse**_ _to be weak_!

Weiss walked to her dresser and stood where her mirror once hung, reflecting on why her hair was crooked. Why she had given away her only mirror.

Fear.

Fear of a mirror. That's not so bad, right? Irrational, maybe, but understandable-too many horror movies would do that to a girl.

But that wasn't it.

No, she wasn't afraid of the mirror itself...

...she was afraid of what was inside the mirror every time she looked into it.

Whenever she looked into a mirror, it was never really herself she saw.

It was who she never wanted to be.

Or...

...maybe there wasn't a difference...

And that's what scared her the most.

She could hide from the world. She could put on a mask, a fake smile, force a laugh, cover herself in images that were so much better than her true nature...

...but her reflection never lied.

 **A/N: Hello! This is your author, hiddenheart, finally posting something.** **This oneshot was influenced a lot by the lyrics of "Mirror Mirror" (Weiss's theme in White Trailer). I couldn't resist naming her father "Jack" because "Schnee" is German (I think... pretty sure) for "Snow", which could be associated with the word "Frost", which makes Jack Schnee technically Jack Frost. *Grins* It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I know Winter's character was revealed and she does look older than Weiss, but since Weiss is the heiress, I assumed Weiss was older, and this one was first written _before_ the information on Volume 3 was released. This was originally posted up on Wattpad (you can find me at hiddenheart51900, though I've pretty much got all the same stories, just updated earlier). So review, follow, favorite, whatever else you want,**

 **~hiddenheart**


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